Topic: The Corruption Hidden Beneath the Surface...
Subject: Pride and Punishment
Davena leaves Kithran alone for several long moments, though the ghoul remains, grinning and softly giggling to itself, directly by her bedside. Hagan also remains by the door, though the expression on his face has shifted from a completely neutral one to a clear leer. The odious priest obviously enjoyed seeing Kith exposed, and is making no secret of the fact.
Kith kept herself from rolling her eyes and smiled instead, “Hagan, was it?” She bent her knees up so that the gown fell back to her waist, “Would you like to help me with something?” I just need to strangle you really quickly. She knew there wasn’t much she could do with their ability to chant her into paralysis, but perhaps, if she could just cut-off the source of the chanting . . . .
Footsteps rose from beyond the door before Hagan could decide whether to take Kith’s bait or not, and she winked at him, lowering her legs again and straightening the gown, “Perhaps after the rape.”
The door opens to readmin the beautiful blonde woman, who now carries a silver goblet containing an unknown liquid.
"Here you are, my dear," Davena speaks in a pleasant, soothing tone as she offers the beverage to her captive. "This will help cleanse you, help give you strength for what is to come."
Kithran tentatively raises herself to her elbows, “Do you mind if I sit up for this? Would you prefer to funnel it down my throat instead?” Davena waves away her concern and Kith sits up on her knees, holding her hands out to take the goblet. The priestess moves to set the strange drink in the thief’s hands, but it slips through her fingertips.
The goblet crashes to the ground with a dull thud, spilling the contents all over the ground. The leering Hagan blanches, his face visibly paling at the insult.
Kith shakes her head at the wasted goblet, “I may be a sticky-fingered thief, but even I can’t account for the clumsiness of a grotesque death cult bitch,” she grins up into Davena’s darkening face, “Is there anymore, or shall I just leave then?”
Davena's face forms into an icy mask of terrifying fury. Kithran is no secret to angry people, but the look of pure murder on the blonde woman's attractive features is awful in its intensity - especially as she exudes a very clear aura that she is more than capable of executing those feelings.
Instead of lashing out, though, the priestess takes a deep breath, and her expression morphs into one with more than a little sorrow. Davena shakes her head.
"Kithran, I am so terribly sorry that you have chosen to behave like this," she speaks.
“I forgive you, child,” Kith continues to taunt, but Davena’s resolve has already set, and she continues without acknowledment.
"I am truly only trying to help you here, but I suppose that you simply cannot see that yet." The priestess cuts her eyes to the ghoul and nods almost imperceptibly; it instantly snarls and lunges forward before Kith can scramble far enough away, sinking its fangs into the rogue's arm. As she has sadly become familiar with, the clutch of the grave radiates through her body and into her heart, and momentarily, Kith is fully paralyzed.
All Kithran is able to control is her breathing, and even that has become erratic as Davena sighs heavily and gently lies her back on the bed. "As I warned you before," she explains as if reminding schoolchildren of a simple lesson, "I will even the ledger for each offense you have offered."
She speaks over her shoulder. "Hagan, remove the gown and fold it on the table, please," she requests. "It will not do to needlessly sully ceremonial garb with the unpleasantness to come."
The leering priest grins lecherously and moves eagerly to comply. "Of course, Mistress."
As the lackey does as he is told - with fingers that roam and rest a bit more than is necessary - the priestess reaches to her belt and withdraws an odd implement. It looks something like the handle of a sword, yet is fashioned of dull gray rock. One end is rounded, and larger than the other. She holds it up for Kithran to see. "This," she indicates the implement, in a tone as if discussing a rolling pin, "is a remarkable implement bestowed upon me by a member of another clergy - that of Salerna." She pauses, arches an eyebrow. "Are you familiar with the goddess of pain, darling? Your mother's people call her Nwalma'arwen - Lady of Torment."
Darling? An old face flashes through Kith's mind and she forces it away. Not in this place.
Davena gives a hard look to Hagan, who cowers away, carefully placing the folded gown on the table.
Davena moves to the end of the bed. Then calmly, without apparent outward malice, the priestess slides the implement slowly along the sole of Kithran's foot. Instantly, the rogue's eyes go wide with agony.
The sensation is like hundreds of burning needles jammed in, twisted, then ripped out of the flesh in a different path - again and again. The skin sizzles in every spot it is touched; blisters form, then split open within a matter of seconds, leaving a weeping wound behind.
"That, dear one," Davena pronounces calmly once the entirety of the bottom of the right foot is laid open, "is for striking the Priestess of D'hurgen in His temple. Such insolence really should not be tolerated, but I tried to show you kindness due to the difficulty of your situation." Her expression is incredibly earnest as she continues. "Truly, child, I wish that you did not force me to do these things to you. I want only for your happiness and well-being as you accept this great blessing."
After a long pause in which Kithran's chest heaves in silent agony, Davena slowly applies the device to the bottom of the left foot. Once again, unthinkable agony radiates up the rogue's leg as the skin sizzles, blisters, ruptures. "This is for blaspheming the Dark One's faith - and in His own temple, no less," she explains. The priestess' lips are pursed tight as she concentrates on the unpleasant task.
Kithran silently implores the gods for the respite of madness to take her, but none choose to offer relief. They bring her to the cusp of delirium, but do not take her sanity, and it feels as though they are all punishing her as well. She is alone in every sense but for those inflicting this pain on her.
Now, both feet weep blood as the priestess moved to the prone rogue's side. Tears flow freely from the young woman's eyes. Davena reaches over and wipes them away, and Kithran wants nothing more than to rip those hands off for touching her. "There, there, dear, she murmurs. "I know that it hurts, I am so sorry that this must be."
Davena then moves to wipe the sweat from Kithran's brow; as she does, she touches the stone wand to Kithran's hip, then slowly slides it up, across the ribcage, coming to a stop just short of the breast. The burning agony seems far worse than before, and the rogue feels her body try desperately to move, to react... but all she can do is lie there and accept the agony as the skin on her side is blistered and split open.
"That, darling," the blonde woman speaks when it is done, "was for blaspheming the rituals, and for rejecting the boon I offered you. The Dark One rewards those who are faithful, but those who work against His awful glory must pay for their sins. I wish that you did not have to suffer so."
Darling? Exhaust from the pain threatens, but refuses to fully embrace her, and instead the voice of her mentor from lifetimes ago echoes softly and flittingly through her wavering mind, Darling . . . .
The ghoul, excited by the goings on, has slowly moved to Kithran's feet. Its long, dark tongue flicks out and into the blood oozing from her wounds. "Stop that!" Davena demands, and the creature falls away instantly, cowed by her command. "Touch her unbidden again," she declares, "and I will rend you limb from limb."
If an insane undead creature can be cowed... this one is.
Davena allows Kithran to suffer for several interminably long minutes before placing her fingertips beside the young woman's torso wound and making eye contact with her. "The ledger is now evened," she explains. "You have paid for your mistakes; I will give you relief now."
The woman bows her blonde head and chants softly under her breath, then touches Kithran's wound, which closes up rapidly, leaving no real trace behind. The sensation itself is disquieting, to say the least; the rogue can feel the cold of the grave permeate her body, feel the dull certainly that it is only a matter of time before her mortal shell rots away. Yet somehow, these accompany a deep power that stitches the broken flesh together as if it had never been sullied. The pain from the side wound melts away, though both feet still scream in unthinkable agony.
She looks up and smiles at Kithran. "There you are, child. Hagan will mend your feet, then dress you."
Davena gives a hard look to the priest. "She belongs to the Dark Lord, and to me. If you sully her in any way, you will beg for death's release."
He bows his head in fear. "Of course, Mistress! I will obey, Mistress!"
The priestess bends to retrieve the goblet. "I will prepare this again; perhaps you will be more inclined to listen to reason when I return." She glances at the ghoul with a hard expression. "Come with me, creature. I will bring another with more restraint."
With that, the priestess and the monster exit the room.
Posted on 2019-10-31 at 17:25:46.
Edited on 2019-10-31 at 23:37:03 by breebles
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
well at first I thought something terrible would happen to her and I'd be all sad about that, but noooow, my Kithy senses are tingling.
